


Harry Potter and the Extremely Inferior Rewrite: The One with the Giant Snake

by That_Thought_At_The_Back_Of_Your_Mind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family, Dursley Bashing, Gen, Lots and losts of Dursley Bashing, M/M, Mentor Remus Lupin, Mentor Severus Snape (eventually; sort of), No Dumbledore Bashing, No Weasley Bashing, Pre-Slash, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6391540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Thought_At_The_Back_Of_Your_Mind/pseuds/That_Thought_At_The_Back_Of_Your_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reworking of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in which changes are made to Harry's harmful living situation and Draco grows a brain.</p><p>I'm really bad at summaries and honestly I really just don't want to give too much of the plot away. Please feel free to read it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings potential reader. Though not the first story I've ever written, this is the first story that I've ever posted online. I'm not very good at sharing my work, not because I lack faith in my ability to write, but because I am a very private person. Before you begin reading, I feel that I should warn you, this story is not yet finished. If i can successfully muddle my way through this first book, i do plan to rewrite the rest of the series as well. Unfortunately I am sometimes cursed with a very temperamental case of writers block. I am hoping that it won't effect the posting of this story in any way, but if it does, then at least I can say I warned you. 
> 
> Things that may irk you about my work:  
> 1\. While most of my grammar is formidable, I have a tendency to misplace and/or overuse commas. I think it may have to do with the way I put emphasis on certain parts of my sentences whilst I am speaking. Sorry, I'm working on it.  
> 2\. I will pick through my writing multiple times before posting but unfortunately I'm pretty sure I won't be able to find and fix every typo.  
> 3\. Dialogue is definitely not my strong suit. Probably because i don't often hold conversations with people. Except for with my two weenie dogs, and unfortunately I'm pretty sure Dachshunds don't actually count as people...  
> 4\. Most importantly, though I will try my utmost to hide it, I am not actually British. As such, the only Britishisms that I know have been learned from BBC America, Harry Potter, and various people on YouTube.  
> If any of these things bother you too much, let me know and I'll try and do something about it. (unless you're just being finicky; in that case, go away!)  
> Constructive criticism is valued, flaming is not. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: If I held the rights to the Harry Potter series I would be living in a mansion with a pool. And three water slides. And a personal movie theater. And a personal library. Unfortunately, I have none of these things.

Harry Potter sat on his bed and stared forlornly out the window. Last night a House Elf, of all things, had come and ruined his life. Now there was a man fitting bars on Harry's window and Uncle Vernon had put a lock and a cat flap for food on his bedroom door. At least now he knew that his friends hadn't forgotten him. Maybe someone would notice when he didn't show up for school.  
Harry was pretty sure the muggles on Privet Drive knew exactly what his uncle was doing, but no one cared enough to do anything about it. For people who were forever worried someone would notice they weren't completely normal, the Dursleys sure had an odd way of hiding things. Their 'punishments' were always much more noticeable than Harry’s ‘funny business'.

Harry jumped as he heard the sudden scraping sound of Aunt Petunia pushing his food tray under the door. He cringed as he limped over to retrieve the tray. Uncle Vernon had been a bit overly enthusiastic with his beating the night before. Harry supposed it was due to the fact that not only was he extremely angry about his botched business dinner, but also, it was the first time Uncle Vernon had hit him since the previous summer. The man hadn't dared lay a finger on Harry since he'd gotten back, but now that he knew Harry wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school, it was open season.

He gingerly sat back down and looked at the sparse meal the Dursleys had given him. Though it was the only meal he'd been granted that day, Harry sighed and gave the entirety to Hedwig. His ribs hurt so badly it was making him nauseated, and the food probably wouldn't have stayed down anyway. Hedwig gave Harry an affronted look and ruffled her feathers, but eventually she ate it.  
Harry lay back as carefully as he could on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He wondered how long it would take everyone to notice that he wasn't coming back to Hogwarts this year. Would they even care? Knowing his luck Ron and Hermione were probably angry and thought that he'd been purposely ignoring them all summer. Sure the other students would most likely be a bit disappointed that they could no longer gawk at Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived, but would anyone just miss Harry? Maybe Hagrid would miss him. Unless he had written Harry too, and assumed that Harry was ignoring him like he imagined that Ron and Hermione would. Harry's mind continued to worry as he drifted into a restless sleep.

 

His worries disappeared though when he woke hours later to a freckle faced boy tapping incessantly on his window.  
“Ron! What are you doing here? You can't be here. If the Dursleys find you they'll kill- Wait, is that a flying Ford Angela?” Harry asked in surprise as Fred and George waved at him through the window.

“What do you mean 'what am I doing here'?” Ron exclaimed, “I've been writing you all summer and you've not answered once! And Dad said you got in trouble for using under age magic! What were you thinking Harry? You know the rules! We're not supposed to use magic during the summer!” Ron rolled his eyes as Harry looked pointedly at the flying car again. “This doesn't count, we didn't charm it, Dad did. We're just borrowing it.”

Harry doubted that the Ministry would agree with Ron's reasoning, but he chose not to comment on that, instead he said, “Of course I didn't use magic Ron! I'm not stupid! It was a House Elf!”

“You have a House Elf? Not fair!” Ron interrupted loudly.

“Of course I don't have a House Elf Ron! I live with muggles! Until last night I'd never even heard of House Elves!” He exclaimed and then proceeded to summarize exactly what had happened the night before.  
While Harry was talking to Ron, the twins removed the bars from his window, climbed in and broke out his door to retrieve his school things that the muggles had locked in the cupboard under the stairs. They were almost away when Hedwig caused a ruckus because Harry had almost forgotten her. The noise woke Uncle Vernon who, when Harry had went back for Hedwig, had almost ripped off Harry's ankle trying to stop him from escaping. The Weasleys managed to pull Harry out of Vernon's grasp, though quite painfully as the easiest place for them to grab him was around his torso which was covered in bruises.Though, Harry was luckily able to pass off his grimace of pain as if it were caused by his ankle getting twisted.

Once things had settled down some the twins had started acting a bit shifty until Harry had asked them what was wrong. “Well,” started George, “We were just wondering,”

“Why is there an old cot made up in your aunt and uncle's cupboard?” Fred finished.  
Harry blinked in surprise. He had completely forgotten that was still there. “Oh... I er, I used to sleep there... Before my Hogwarts letter came. My aunt and uncle freaked when the letter was addressed not only to their house, but to my cupboard as well.” Harry explained uncomfortably.

Harry flinched as he lifted his hand to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. He'd forgotten momentarily that he was still injured. Ron noticed, “Blimey Harry! What the hell happened to you?!” He exclaimed leaning in to better examine Harry's facial features in the moon light. “I didn't see it before because it's so dark, but you look like you fell off your broom!” Both twins looked at Harry in concern.

“It was just Dudley and his gang.” Harry lied quickly. “Don't worry Ron, I've had far worse before.” He felt bad about lying but, he really didn't want them to know just yet how much of a freak he really was. Getting ruffed up by some other kids was one thing, but he really didn't think he could handle them knowing he was abused.  
As they flew Ron relayed the story of Harry’s disastrous previous night to his brothers. Harry stayed mostly quiet, only giving small nods of encouragement or corrections when needed. Eventually he felt himself beginning to drift back to sleep.

 

Ron woke Harry up just as they were landing. Harry had barely gotten a chance to glance at their peculiar house before Mrs. Weasley marched outside and began to verbally attack her sons. He immediately felt terrible for Ron and the twins having to come get him, and though it had been some time since he'd last cried about anything, he found to his utter embarrassment that he had to work to keep his guilty tears at bay. Of course he only felt worse when Mrs. Weasley made it clear that she didn't blame him, and then insisted that Harry come inside and get something to eat.

It was about that time that she noticed Harry was hurt, and she proceeded to make a huge fuss over him. She quickly stopped though, when she saw just how uncomfortable it was making Harry, and rushed everyone inside for breakfast.  
Mr. Weasley came home around the time everyone was getting settled at the table (except for Ron's younger sister Ginny who had squeaked and ran off when she had seen Harry. Ron assured him it had nothing to do with the state he was in, and everything to do with who he was, but Harry wasn't sure he believed him.) Before Mr. Weasley could speak to Harry, Mrs. Weasley pulled him off to the side and said a few words to him while gazing worriedly in Harry's direction. Whatever she said was enough to keep him from mentioning anything about Harry's injuries. Instead he asked about rubber ducks and spark plugs, but Harry was sure that the unquestioning silence wouldn't last for very long. He would need to tell them something eventually.

Harry tried his best to eat all of the food Mrs. Weasley piled onto his plate, but he just felt too sick from the pain. It was getting worse. He felt terrible, and didn't want to seem rude, especially since the food was so good, but he just wasn't able to force even half of it down. Never mind the fact that all of the Weasley boys all had at least two helpings of everything, or the fact that it had been at least a day and a half since Harry had eaten anything at all.

Eventually Mrs. Weasley ordered Fred, George, and Ron to go and de-gnome the garden and for Harry to stay behind. Percy had long since left the table to go write to someone; the twins had taken great fun in teasing him about it.  
This was it. The time had come for them to interrogate him about his bruises. Harry hoped that his lies would be good enough to satisfy their concerns, but he knew he wasn't half as convincing to adults as he was to children.

“Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley started delicately as if not to startle him off. “I need you to tell us what happened.” Harry looked from Mrs. Weasley to her husband and then back again.  
He drew in a deep, painful breath and then said, “Er, well you see... I have this cousin Dudley- whale of a boy really- and well, see, he and his friends don't like me too much, and so yesterday they grabbed me from the park and ruffed me up a bit. It's not really as bad as it looks. Really. I've had far worse before.”

It was an okay story, but Harry was a terrible liar and he could see the Weasleys weren't buying it. In fact, Harry could tell the only thing they did buy was that he had had far worse before.  
Mr. Weasley sent his wife a worried look and cleared his throat. “Harry, we need you to tell us what really happened.” He said in a stern voice.

Suddenly it occurred to Harry what exactly he was doing. He was lying to adults. The Dursleys hated that. Why would the Weasleys be any different? He was horrified that he had obviously broken a rule and he wasn't even sure what the punishment would be here.

Mr. Weasley saw Harry panicking and quickly did his best to reassure him. “Harry, you're not in trouble. I just really need you to tell me who hurt you.” Harry wasn't sure he believed him, but he knew from experience it would be better to tell them now if only to avoid more potential anger in the future.

Harry took a deep breath and looked at his old trainers and explained as best as he could. “Uncle Vernon was upset because I wrecked his business dinner. I tried to tell him it wasn't my fault; that a House Elf had done it, but he didn't believe me. It's alright. I mean, I've had worse before.

The Weasleys were silent for a while and Harry peaked up at them through his hair. He suddenly felt very foolish. He was in no danger of getting in trouble here like he did at the Dursleys. These were good people. Ron's family. They wouldn't hurt him. Mrs. Weasley did look as if she might cry though.

“Harry dear, I know you mean to comfort when you say that you've had worse... but that's really not a good thing. I'm ready to take you to a healer right now based solely on the injuries I can see, never mind what you're hiding under your clothes. Surely you must know you don't deserve this kind of treatment. Why haven't you told anyone?”

Harry flushed in embarrassment. “I used to. When I was younger I told a few of my teachers and stuff, but they never believed me. The Dursleys told everyone I was a troublesome child and that I got into fights a lot. Even now they tell everyone who asks about me that I'm at a school for troubled boys. I'm pretty sure no one believes them, but no one cares enough to do anything about it...”

Mrs. Weasley made a sound suspiciously similar to a sob and enveloped Harry in an extremely clingy hug. Harry was slightly uncomfortable, especially because he was covered in bruises, but he just patted Mrs. Weasley's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“Oh you poor dear, “Mrs. Weasley cried. “No one should be treated that way. Especially not you! Such a sweet, kind boy!” At this point she hugged Harry even tighter and he could no longer hide his discomfort. Mrs. Weasley was busy crying into his hair, but thankfully Mr. Weasley noticed his painful grimace.

“Molly, I think you should let go for just a moment. Harry can you show us everywhere you're injured? I'm sorry to be invasive, but we need to see them to know whether or not you need a healer.”

Harry flushed again in embarrassment. He really felt like saying 'no', but he didn't want to upset the Weasleys when they were being so nice to him. Plus at least this way Mrs. Weasley would have to stop crying on him. “I... er... I guess that's alright. It really isn't that bad though.” Harry said as he stood and gently removed his shirt.

The Weasleys didn't gasp so much as they just stopped breathing completely and then restarted harshly a moment later. They both looked as if they might be sick. “Molly, go send for Poppy and Dumbledore.” Mr. Weasley said in a quiet voice. His face was ashen as he stared at Harry's torso. If this was the reaction he got from removing his shirt, Harry wasn't sure he wanted show them what all was hiding beneath his trousers. Though, he supposed now that he looked at it, the bruises did seem a lot worse than they were the night before. Also he could tell that at least one of his ribs was broken by the awkward way it was positioned under his skin...

After staring at Harry for a moment, Mr. Weasley assured him solemnly. “Don't worry Harry. We're going to take care of this. We won't let them hurt you again. Dumbledore will know what to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I feel the need to admit that I have had a big problem with this chapter. In order for this story to work properly Draco has to change a bit and I have had the hardest time trying to create a believable change in Draco without making him too out of character. I'm still not sure I've managed it properly, but if I continue to pick at this chapter, soon I'll have nothing left. So without further ado, here it is.

Draco wasn't quite sure when exactly it had started, the gradual realization that his father wasn't really as great as he'd always seemed when Draco was younger. He guessed though, that it had probably started around the time that he had left for school.

Before Hogwarts the only people Draco had ever been around were his father's business associates and their children. Naturally, that meant that he had only ever known pure-bloods. Draco had always taken Lucius' word for it when he'd said that half-bloods and muggle-borns were inferior to pure-bloods, and that muggles were little more than clothed monkeys. After spending a while at school though, Draco had realized his father's views were not completely accurate.

Many of the pure-bloods he had been raised with were mediocre when it came to coursework, and some like Crabbe and Goyle were down right hopeless. Whereas some half-blood and muggle-borns, especially Hermione Granger, excelled above and beyond. In fact, even Harry Potter's mother had been a muggle-born, making Potter a half-blood, and he had defeated the darkest, most powerful wizard _ever_ as a _baby_!

If blood status mattered as much as his father claimed, then why wasn't there more proof? Everything he'd ever been taught was starting to seem more like nasty rumours than actual fact. Needless to say Draco was confused and not a little bit unsettled.

Still, he had been raised a Malfoy and Malfoys were nothing if not loyal to their family. So, even with all of his new information, Draco did his best to be the perfect pure-blood son that his father had raised. Surely everything would make sense one day when he was as old and as powerful as his father.

The entire school year Draco had done his best to pretend that he still held the same beliefs as his parents and his pure-blood friends. Once the end of the school year came however, and Harry Potter had once again faced and defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-So-Great-If-A-Child-Has-Vanquished-Him-Twice-Now, Draco could no longer live in denial. His father was wrong.

Draco knew there was no way any of his pure-blood friends could do half the things the Gryffindor Trio had done that year. He knew he probably couldn't have done them either. (He was still a bit miffed about the House Cup though, Dumbledore could have gone about that a nicer way.)

In the end, after seeing how wrong his father had been about wizards, Draco decided to scrap all previous notions about muggles and see them for himself. So, three days after the summer holiday had started, Draco had sneaked off into the closest muggle town to do just that.

Before he had left the Manor, Draco had had a House Elf go to Gringots and exchange some of his allowance for muggle money on the off chance that he found anything interesting enough to buy. It was a good thing he had had that foresight because, much to his surprise, Draco had found almost everything in the muggle world interesting.

There was a sizeable book shop in the centre of the town where he had found books on pretty much everything you could imagine. It was surprising just how many things muggles managed to do without magic. Electricity, computers, the cinema, television, telephones, cars, aeroplanes, electric guitars... the list went on and on of things Draco couldn't fathom having been invented without the use of magic.

He struggled not to buy too many books that day lest the muggles to get suspicious. Though, even buying what he considered to be the bare minimum, the clerk had still looked at him strangely as he rang up all of Draco's purchases.

Even with as many things as Draco got that day, he still went back three more times that week for more information. He found tabloids (with motionless pictures!) that told him about muggle pop culture, which honestly he found just as confusing as wizard pop culture with the way things were always changing. He discovered a very strong liking for muggle music, and an interest in muggle science, especially chemistry which he found very similar to potion making. Not everything he found was to his liking, and a lot of the sports seemed a bit boring and brutish when compared to Quidditch, but it was obvious that none of it had been created by clothed monkeys. His father was wrong again.

Still, after finding that his father was wrong about muggles as well as wizards, Draco thought Lucius was a good man. Maybe a bit misguided, prejudice, and conceded, but ultimately good. That was, until his father saw his school marks.

When he had first come home from school, Draco had proudly shown his father his marks and his father had praised him. Being on the Board of Governors meant that Lucius was able to look at the other first year’s marks, and being a Malfoy he had felt the need to see how well his son had done in comparison to the rest of the students. Initially, when he checked two weeks into summer, Lucius was proud when he saw that Draco was either second or tied with first in all of his classes. However, when he saw that the person who had tied with or bested Draco each time was a “mud-blood” Lucius was furious.

When Lucius had confronted him about his performance Draco had made the mistake of pointing out that blood had absolutely nothing to do with how well you did in school and that had been the last straw for Lucius. That night was the first time that his father had ever beat Draco with his cane.

Contrary to popular belief, Draco had been disciplined before. He had been grounded, cuffed over the back of his head, spanked, and even slapped in the mouth by his mother once, but it was nothing compared to this. Draco still had yellowing bruises left all over his body and it had been almost three weeks now. (Of course, not anywhere that anyone could see, as that would bring the family embarrassment.)

He wasn't sure whether his mother knew the true extent of the beating, and he wasn't about to ask, but judging by the way she looked at him Draco was sure it wouldn't matter. She would back her husband on anything.

Lucius had made it very clear that Draco would face even harsher consequences should he ever oppose traditional Malfoy values again. So, Draco decided that while he didn't have to believe in or act on his parents prejudice ideals, he could probably get away with not stating his opinion in front of them in one way or another. At least... he could for a while.

Almost three weeks after the beating, Lucius was still mad and had only spoken to him once since. When he had, it had been short and cold, and he had suspiciously given Draco a package and told him not to open it until he was back at Hogwarts. Apparently whatever the box contained had “belonged to a Great Pure-blood Wizard” and would serve as a reminder of “who Malfoys are supposed to be” while he was away at school.

Whatever was in the box, Draco was sure he wouldn't like it. The box felt heavy in a way that had nothing to do with weight, and it left Draco's stomach feeling unsettled if he stared at or handled it for too long.

Never the less, Draco found himself longing to open the package before school started and to use whatever was in the box. It was disturbing and compelling in a way that Draco couldn't quite describe.

At present Draco had stored the box in his Hogwarts trunk so that he wouldn't have to see it very often, and was trying his best to forget about it.

 

**~*~**  

 

It was driving him mad.

It had been a fortnight since Draco's father had given him the mysterious box with the mysterious item in it that would supposedly teach Draco how to be a better Malfoy, and though it made his stomach queasy to think about or look at The Box, Draco felt he was going to go sparse imagining what was in it. He had even taken to capitalising the stupid thing in his head. It was getting rather ridiculous.

Draco sighed in frustration as he eyed The Box. His father had told him not to open it until school started, and because it gave him such a foreboding feeling, Draco had seriously considered not opening it at all, and instead giving it to Uncle Severus once he got back to Hogwarts but, the suspense was driving him crazy.

In the past two weeks Draco had imagined every possible traumatising thing that could be in The Box and every day the ideas got more ridiculous and more terrifying and he just couldn't take it anymore. He would rather open it and know what he was dealing with than continue to give himself nightmares thinking about what it might be.

Draco glanced at The Box from across the room. This was it. He was finally going to open the offending thing. He had wasted the entire day getting his nerve up, and he simply couldn't wait any longer.

Draco stepped a bit closer and his stomach gave an unsettling lurch while his pulse quickened in fear. “This is sodding ridiculous!” He exclaimed to himself as he stormed over to where The Box sat on his night stand and ripped the lid off in frustration.

Immediately he was horrified by what he'd done, and considered putting the lid back on and running away, but then he realized what he was looking at.

“A book.” He blinked. Suddenly Draco felt very stupid. He picked up the book and flipped through the pages. He was further surprised to realize it was completely blank.

He had been terrified of a diary for half a month. It was a good thing no one had known about this or he never would have lived it down. “How in the world could a blank diary teach me what it means to be a Malfoy?” Draco muttered to himself in confusion.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Draco almost dropped the book in his haste to return it back to its box. His father would be furious if he found out that had opened the box before he was supposed to.

He had just gotten the lid closed and turned around with what he hoped was a calm face when his mother entered his room. “Draco, tomorrow your father is going to take you with him to the Parkinson's to discuss some business and I expect you to be on your best behaviour.” she said with a stern expression.

Draco felt his face flush as he looked anywhere but at his mother. He knew the reason she was warning him about his behaviour was because of what he had said to his father about blood status a few weeks ago. Before that incident she would never have felt the need to tell him to act a certain way, but now she had started handling Draco with safety gloves.

It was as if she thought Draco might say something to embarrass the family in public. Frankly, Draco thought his parents embarrassed themselves enough by flaunting there imbecilic, prejudice beliefs all over the place.

He shuddered to think what either of his parents would do if they found all of the muggle books he had shrunken and hidden away in his Hogwarts trunk.

Inwardly, he sighed; outwardly he simply nodded and said, “Of course Mother,” as earnestly as he could manage.

His mother stayed in his room for a while longer lecturing him about his behaviour and Malfoy honour, and by the time she left he was so tired, he forgot to study the diary any further that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore is the most difficult character ever for me to write. That being said, I still have no excuse for taking so long to post this chapter. I blame my finicky nitpicking tendencies... Anyway, here you go.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter... or anything else really...

 

Albus Dumbledore was not a man who was often wrong. Every decision he made was plotted and analysed for weeks, months, sometimes even years in advance. He planned things so carefully that he could rarely afford much of a margin of error. As an unfortunate result, any time that he was ever wrong, the fallout was wrought with near critical damage. This time though, Albus felt the damage was much worse than usual.

 

            He had meant to keep the boy safe. He had truly thought it best for Harry to grow up away from the magical world and the fame that went with it. Though Albus had known the Dursleys weren't the best sort, and that Petunia had always envied her sister's magic, he had never imagined they could be so cruel.

 

            Always, whenever he had thought of how Harry may feel lonely or different, Albus had told himself that he was doing more help than harm in the long run. That the bloodwards were more important than Harry's comfort.

 

            Now though, Albus knew that he had made a terrible mistake. What good were the bloodwards if his relatives tried to beat him to death?

 

            However, the fact remained that the bloodwards were necessary. He couldn't have Harry removed from the home completely or he would be in danger. He could, however, make sure the boy spent as little time there as possible.

 

            Also, this time he would make sure someone was actually watching. Not just some old squib a street over either. This time he would station a trusted teacher right next door. The one teacher who could best empathise with young Mr. Potter. He would send Severus. Maybe this would finally show Severus that Harry wasn't his father.

 

            As for the rest of the year, Albus rather thought it was time that he contacted Remus Lupin. The Potters had named Remus as a second godfather in their wills far before it was legal for werewolves to have custody of children. Had there been no need for bloodwards, because Sirius Black was unavailable due to his imprisonment, Harry would have been sent to live with Remus four years after his parent’s deaths, when the laws had finally changed. He may only be Harry's second godfather because of a technicality, but it would have to do. Albus had always thought Remus would be a much more responsible guardian than Sirius Black anyway.

 

**~*~**

 

            Harry sat alone on the Weasley's couch and waited for Ron's parents to return to the room. Mrs. Weasley had told him to lie down while she and her husband went to fire call Hogwarts, but his bruises were making that a harder task than it should have been.

 

            Harry couldn't lie on his back because that was Uncle Vernon's favourite belt area, and his chest and stomach were completely out of bounds because that's where Uncle Vernon did most of his kicking. He had briefly tried lying on his side, but as Harry was easing himself down, he had felt a sudden sharp pain shoot through his abdomen and so he thought that maybe he should just sit still for a while.

 

            Eventually Mrs. Weasley returned to the sitting room. “We were able to reach Professor Dumbledore dear, and he's working on getting in touch with Madame Pomfrey. How are you feeling?” She said brushing his hair back from his face. Harry was surprised at just how much the motherly gesture affected him, as he had to swallow a lump that formed in his throat.

 

            “I'm fine, thanks.” Harry felt like maybe he should have told her about the increasing pain, but she was already doing so much for him and he really didn't want to be a bother. So, he decided to tough it out until Madame Pomfrey arrived. Harry hoped it wouldn't take too long though, because he was beginning to feel nauseated and flushed as well now.

 

            Mrs. Weasley looked a bit sceptical, but thankfully, she didn't press the issue. “Alright dear. Do you need anything while we wait?”

 

            “Actually, could I maybe have some water?” Harry asked. He thought it might help with the nausea.

 

            “Of course dear. I'll be right back with it.” Mrs. Weasley said patting Harry's knee.

 

            While Harry was waiting for her to return, Ron quietly entered the room. He looked more cautious than Harry had ever seen him. He almost seemed timid.

 

            “I... Erm...You... I thought you said it was your cousin?” Ron stammered, looking as if it were painful to ask. Harry sighed. See, this was why he didn't tell Ron and the twins the truth. He didn't want them to look at him the way Ron was staring at him now. As if he were odd... or broken. Still, Ron deserved an answer.

 

            “Well... sometimes it's Dudley.” Harry hedged looking at his hands.

 

            “Yeah, but what about this time? Because Dad says it was your Uncle.” Ron questioned a bit more assertively.

 

            “I... Yeah. It was Uncle Vernon.” Harry admitted trying to swallow back the worsening nausea. Where was Mrs. Weasley with his water?

 

            “Why didn't you tell me that mate? If I'd known they were like that Mum and Dad would have taken you in! There's no way we would have sent you back to them if we had known they were hurting you!” Ron stressed flopping down next to Harry on the couch.

 

            As soon as the other boy sat down Harry's stomach gave a great lurch and he finally lost his fight with his breakfast. He quickly turned away from Ron and vomited all over the Weasleys sitting room rug. When he bent over to gag, the stabbing pain in his abdomen intensified tenfold and caused him to retch even harder.

 

            “Oh, Merlin. Mum! Mum!!” Ron called frantically as he watched Harry spew. At first Harry wasn't sure why Ron sounded so upset, until he saw it. He wasn't just spewing his breakfast. Harry was vomiting blood. A great deal of it too.

 

            The last thing Harry registered before he passed out was Mrs. Weasley running into the room while yelling for Ron's dad.

 

**~*~**

 

            The first thing Harry registered when he came to were dark eyes, black stringy hair, and a hooked nose about two inches from his face.

 

            It was alarming to say the least. Harry gasped and flinched back.

 

            “Stay still Mr. Potter. You have at least two broken ribs and one of them has managed to puncture your spleen.” Professor Snape said pressing in a surprisingly gentle manner on Harry's shoulder to stop him from sitting up. He was running diagnostic spells all over Harry's torso.

 

            Harry settled back and stared up at his professor in confusion. He thought he could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the background, but someone had removed his glasses so he couldn't be sure.

 

            “I... My glasses?” Harry was dizzy and the blurred vision wasn't helping much.

 

            “Oh, here you are Harry dear. They fell off earlier when you fainted.” Mrs. Weasley said rushing forward and handing them to him.

 

            “Thanks.” Harry said trying to lift them to his face, but once his arm was half raised, pain shot through his ribs and he hissed.

 

            “I told you not to move Potter.” Snape glared at an apologetic Mrs. Weasley as he took the glasses out of Harry's hands and placed them gently on Harry's face.

 

            “Your hair looks a lot less greasy this close up.” Harry said as the world came into focus. He was immediately mortified to realize that he had said that out loud. The dizziness was making him stupid. Harry waited for Snape's inevitable blow up, but it never came. He simply paused and blinked a few times before continuing with the complicated spells he was casting on Harry's abdomen.

 

            After a moment Snape leaned back and scowled. “I'm going to have to take him to Hogwarts. I've managed to stop the bleeding, but he still has a lot of wounds, old and new, that I simply cannot heal all at once. Not to mention how malnourished the child is. Did those muggles _ever_ feed you? They have stunted your growth by at least 8 centimetres.”

 

            Harry flushed and looked away. He knew he was too short and a bit underweight, but he was still embarrassed that Snape had mentioned it out loud. He had made sure to eat as healthily as possible during the school term, but it hadn't been enough to reverse the years of damage inflicted by the Dursleys' abuse.

 

            Snape sighed in resignation when Harry didn't answer him. “I'll have to start you on a few nutritional potions and have Poppy assign you a meal plan. There is a small chance that it's still reversible.”

 

            It seemed odd to have Snape personally addressing him without a sneer. Harry couldn't decide if it was a bad thing or not.

 

            He didn't have much time to dwell on that though, as Mr. Weasley stepped forward and said, “Alright Severus. You take Harry on to Hogwarts through the floo. Molly and I will gather the children and come check on him in a bit.”

 

            Harry's stomach turned at the thought of floo travel. Mr. Weasley had explained it to him earlier when Mrs. Weasley had first gone to call Dumbledore and it sounded positively dreadful. Mr. Weasley had even mentioned the possibility of getting lost in the Floo Network and winding up in the wrong place completely. He was relieved to see Snape was shaking his head.

 

            “No, his body can't handle the stress of floo travel right now. We shall have to use a portkey. Luckily Dumbledore gave me one he made previously that can get past the wards.” Snape said pulling an old bottle cap out of his robes. “Potter, place your finger on this and do not let go. I feel I should warn you this shall not be very pleasant.”

 

            Harry starred at the bottle cap in apprehensive confusion, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't object, so after a moment he touched it with his index finger.

 

            Suddenly it felt as if his body were being pulled inside out through his bellybutton. The pain, which Harry had been almost completely numb to while Snape was examining him, raced back in full force as the world shifted around him.

 

            He landed on the floor on his back in excruciating pain. His head was pounding terribly, and the dizziness from before had increased enormously. Harry turned his head to the side as he felt the bile rising to his throat again. He emptied his stomach onto what he had hoped was the floor beside him, but soon realized was actually the black shoes of his potions professor. Harry dimly registered that he was close to tears. Then he passed out again.


	4. Chapter 4

            Severus Snape sighed in resignation and sneered in disgust as he vanished and scoured the sick from his shoes. Normally he would've suspected the Potter boy to have done it on purpose but it was beyond obvious this time that he couldn't help it. Only a heartless fool would expect a child this injured to have complete control over himself. And though most Gryffindors would swear otherwise, Severus wasn't quite that callous. Yet.

 

            Severus pondered as he levitated the damaged youth to the Hospital Wing, how exactly the entire magical world had missed its blessed hero's awful mistreatment at the hands of his muggle relatives.

 

            Severus knew how he himself had missed it. Looking at Harry Potter brought back far too many memories of Lily, so, most of the time Severus just imagined James in the boy's place and reacted accordingly.

 

            The truth was he simply didn't want to acknowledge just how much like Lily the boy truly was. Most people swore Mr. Potter was a carbon copy of his father, and Severus would be the first to agree but, honestly, he was a much more even mixture of the two.

  

            There was a softness around his mouth that he had definitely inherited from his mother. A subtle angle to his cheek bones and a fullness to his chin. His handwriting was almost the same exact messy scrawl Lily had had when she had first learned to write with a quill. He had many of her quirks, such as biting his lip when concentrating, or tapping his foot to stay awake when he was tired. The few times he was partnered with the Longbottom boy for Potions it was evident that he had inherited his mother's kindness as well as her sense of justice and loyalty. By far the worst though, were his eyes. Her eyes.

 

            No, Severus knew exactly why he hadn't seen the signs of abuse. He had been far too preoccupied with shutting his eyes and pretending the boy was someone else, in order to spare his own feelings, to notice anything troublesome. What was confusing to Severus, was that no one else had seen the signs either.

 

            The boy had the entire world trying desperately to get even a glance at his life and no one had seen anything? In all of the people who had managed to track him down through his childhood, not one person had noticed how his relatives were treating him? In all of the people Dumbledore had stationed around his house, not one had thought anything untoward was happening?

 

            Severus knew Albus Dumbledore well enough that he didn't suspect the older wizard of having known, but he was completely baffled by the fact that the muggles had been abusing The Boy Who Lived right under everyone's nose for years and no one had reported it.

 

            What really perplexed him though, was how Poppy hadn't picked up on _any_ of Harry's more serious problems when he was in the hospital wing for three days last term. They should have been immediately obvious to such a seasoned healer as she. Instead, the boy was treated for a concussion and exhaustion and then sent on his way.

 

            Severus gently lowered Harry on to one of the empty beds and sent a patronus to inform Dumbledore of their arrival and that Severus needed to speak with him. He stood to the side with his arms crossed and watched the unconscious child as he waited. He was filled with shame at what he saw.

 

            When he had first been sent to the Weasleys to check on an abused Harry Potter, Severus honestly hadn't expected to find any real cause for alarm. He had thought he would get there and maybe Potter would be in a fuss about his family disciplining him when he felt he had done nothing wrong. Or that possibly his aunt or uncle had accidentally hurt him and the brat was whining for attention. What Severus had found had astonished and sickened him.

 

            The first thing that Severus had noticed upon arriving at the Weasley residence, was that Molly Weasley was shouting for her husband. He had followed Arthur to the sitting room and was alarmed at the amount of bloody bile upon the floor that had apparently come from the Potter boy. Potter was unconscious on the floor and Molly and her youngest son were in the process of lifting the boy onto the couch.

 

            Severus had momentarily frozen in shock at the state of the boy.

 

            The left side of Harry's face was swollen and discoloured, mostly dark purple with shades of yellow, blue, and red mixed in around the edges. He had a deep cut on his cheek that had thankfully since stopped bleeding. His glasses were unbroken so he had most likely not had them on during the attack. His chest was bare and there were more bruises and cuts littered across his torso. The worst bruising (some of which strongly resembled shoeprints) was around the child's ribs. A few ribs were obviously broken, and based on the area of discolouration on his abdomen (not to mention all of the blood Potter had expelled) it was likely his spleen was ruptured.

 

            After moment of just standing there staring at the proof that he had completely failed Lily's son, Severus had leapt into action. He had forced a blood replenishing potion down Harry's throat and placed a stasis charm on the spleen. He hadn't been skilled enough to fix it, but at least the charm would keep it from getting any worse while they waited for Poppy.

 

            When Potter had woke it had taken all of his restraint to keep from breaking down on the boy in apology. He felt so ashamed. It was obvious now that the boy had been none of the things Severus had been assuming he was all year. Severus knew that if he had tried even for a second to see the child as his own person rather than as a clone of his father or a painful reminder of his mother that it would have been apparent. Severus had been bullying a child all year based solely on his own misgivings.

 

            Severus sighed as he studied the Potter boy on the bed in front of him.

 

            If he had known what the child's home life was like he would have realized Harry was incapable of feeling superior to anyone. Especially considering Severus knew exactly what it felt like to be hurt by the very people who were supposed to love you the most...

 

            But, no. There was no excuse. Never mind what type of situation Harry was in at home, Severus had had no excuse to treat a child that way. Lily would have been repulsed by his behaviour. _He_ was repulsed by his behaviour.

 

            “How is he, Severus?” He was startled out of his thoughts by Dumbledore speaking softly from behind him. Severus quickly turned to look at him.

 

            “Not well, as I'm sure you can see. His relatives must have been trying to kill him. Have you managed to reach Poppy yet?”

 

            “Yes. She was out of the country, so I'm afraid she'll have to wait to be issued an emergency portkey.” Dumbledore sighed.

 

            “Albus... there are major signs of years of abuse. How is it that no one has ever noticed? More importantly, how did Poppy miss it when Potter was in her care at the end of term?” Severus questioned.

 

            Albus looked down in apparent shame. “The first is my fault. I neglected to keep anyone close enough to see past their lies. I should have sent someone more trusted. I should have checked on him myself. The second is because, though Harry was in the hospital wing at the end of last term, Poppy did very little attending to him herself. Another patient was in much worse shape when they brought him in, and so Poppy delegated Mr. Potter's care to her apprentice. Her apprentice who apparently only checked Harry for a concussion, which he had, and then treated him only for that.”

 

            “She delegated Harry Potter's care? What kind of imbecile is she?”

 

            “The kind who knew her apprentice couldn't handle the type of damage a sixth year Hufflepuff boy had sustained and wrongly assumed the student would do the preliminary tests one is required to give every patient. She has since been expelled and forbidden from acquiring her healer’s license as she was far too distracted with stealing potions for recreational use to pay proper attention to healer protocol. As such, since this was her last year and all new apprenticeships start in April, I’ll have no apprentice this year.” Madame Pomfrey said loudly from behind the two men.

 

            “I managed to get a portkey faster than I had expected. It turns out an old friend of mine was running the office and when I explained that I needed to get home to attend to a patient she sent me straight to the front of the line.” Poppy explained as she started running silent diagnostic spells over Harry's body.

 

            “Thank you, Poppy. Come Severus, let’s give her some space to work.” Dumbledore said leading Severus by the elbow into the hall way. “I am gratified to hear that you are so concerned with this. I have a task and I feel that you are the only one I can entrust it to, based on your past.”

 

            Severus hated the way the old man's eye twinkled when he said that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to think of a reason why Madame Pomfrey would have missed Harry's abuse without making her seem like she was bad at her job or just completely unsympathetic was very difficult. Also, please let me know if you think Snape was too out of character. I mean, obviously he needs to be a bit out of character for this story to work at all, but I hope I haven't made him completely unrealistic.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Draco Malfoy was confused.    

 

            He had spent the previous week checking the diary for every enchantment he could think of and every curse mentioned in the manor library and he had found nothing. Absolutely _nothing_ seemed to be wrong with the book. If his father had been someone else, Draco might think Lucius was telling him that only _he_ could teach _himself_ how to be a true Malfoy, but his father would never employ that kind of method.

 

            It made no sense. Why would his father give him a normal blank diary? The only thing left to do to test it was to write in it. He had held off from that as long as he could because he didn't want to activate whatever enchantment or curse his father had put on the book, but after a week of getting nowhere his curiosity had magnified and Draco was seriously considering risking it.

 

            It didn't help that he hadn't been able to sneak into the muggle town all week and was quickly running out of muggle literature to distract himself. He was getting bored and the diary was the most interesting thing around.

 

            He knew he should probably just wait and give it to his godfather when he got back to school, but he couldn't help but feel stupid for being so scared of the thing. How much damage could a book do anyway? And wouldn't Uncle Severus be more proud if Draco brought him the book already knowing what was wrong with it rather than if he just expected a grown up to deal with it?

 

            Everyone was proud of the Gryffindors for dealing with things themselves and Draco couldn't help but want to be thought of that way too. Sure Uncle Severus thought they were idiots, but that was probably just because he hates Gryffindors. He had always encouraged Draco to do things for himself rather than just whining for help. No, he should at least test the book fully before just handing the thing off.

 

            Draco took a deep breath and opened the diary to a random page. He inked up his quill and hovered over the page trying to decide what to write. As he was thinking, a small blot of ink dripped from his quill onto the otherwise blank page. Draco didn't even have time for the panic at what he had done to set in before the blot faded out of existence before his eyes.

 

            He blinked in surprise as a message he hadn't written appeared in the diary.

 

            **_“Hello”_** Draco stared intently at the word until it too faded and was replaced by further writing. ** _“My name is Tom Riddle. Who are you?”_**

 

            Draco knew he probably shouldn't, but was too intrigued not to reply. **“Hello Tom Riddle, My name is Draco Malfoy. What are you doing in this book?”** Draco sat back and waited for Riddle to write back. It didn't take long.

 

            **_“This book is my diary. How did you get it? Really I'm not actually in this book, only a small piece of my consciousness is. I imprinted it to the book rather than recording my thoughts down in words that anyone could read.”_**

****

 Whoever this Riddle guy was, he was smart. Imprinting a piece of his own consciousness in the diary would definitely keep the wrong people from learning his secrets. This way he could choose whether or not to let someone read what he was thinking.

 

            **“That's genius. This way only you can decide if someone sees your secrets. What spell did you use?”** Draco asked eagerly.

 

            **_“It's a variation on a few different spells. Maybe I'll tell you someday, but it is a bit difficult and rather dangerous. Now, how exactly did you come by my diary?”_** Riddle pressed.

 

            **“My father gave it to me to teach me a lesson. I told him I thought blood status was irrelevant when it came to magical ability, and he gave me this diary to teach me 'What it means to be a Malfoy.'** Draco explained, completely forgetting his apprehensions from before.

**_“Hmm. Why would he give you my diary to teach that kind of lesson?”_**

****

**“He said this book once belonged to a 'Great Pure-blood Wizard.' I'm not sure why but he seemed sure this book could teach me Malfoy values.”** He thought for a moment that maybe he shouldn’t be divulging so much information so freely, but really, it wasn’t like Riddle was a real person. If he had a problem with Draco’s opinion then Draco could always just shut the book and walk away.

**_“Well that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I'm not even pure-blood. My father was a muggle. Maybe your father was mistaken...”_**

 

            Draco sighed and thought for a moment.

 

            It didn't seem likely that his father would be wrong about something like this, but it hadn't seemed likely he would be wrong about muggles and blood status either and he definitely had been. Draco guessed it was possible Lucius was wrong again. Anyway, Riddle seemed nice enough and wasn't yet fawning over him or judging him for his family name, and that was a pleasant change of pace.

 

            Draco decided it couldn't hurt much to continue writing to him. If only to finish the conversation. Maybe he could convince Riddle to teach him the spell he had used to imprint his consciousness into his diary.

 

 

**~*~**

 

 

            Harry was alone the next time he woke up. He felt disoriented and his head was slightly sore, as if he had slept too deeply and for a long time. It took him a moment to find his glasses, but once he did, he recognised that he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing.

 

            It felt as if someone had fixed his rib and his spleen, although there was still some pain left and he did still feel a bit woozy. It must have been Madame Pomfrey. Harry had met her the last time he was here, but a student intern had been the one to treat him then.

 

            Harry guessed he should let someone know that he was awake now. As he was easing himself out of the hospital bed though, Professor Dumbledore entered the hospital wing and motioned for him to stop.

 

            “Not just yet Harry. You have been sleeping and healing now for just under a week. Though you doubtlessly feel much better, I think you will find you are not entirely well yet.” Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have lost some of their ever present twinkle, and it looked as if it pained him to even lay eyes on Harry. His guilt and sadness were obvious on his face.

 

            Harry lay carefully back down on the hospital bed. “Professor... I... please don't feel bad. I could have told you last year, but I didn't. There's no reason for you to feel bad Sir.”

 

            Professor Dumbledore looked down and shook his head as he stepped closer to Harry's bed. “Ah, my boy you are far too kind. No, I do deserve some blame as I am the one who decided to place you with the Dursley's in the first place. For the same reason I am going to have to send you back next summer.”

 

            Harry's stomach lurched and his mouth went dry. Something deep inside his chest crumpled a bit. “Send me back Sir?” Harry felt his eyes watering and quickly looked away from his professor.

 

            Dumbledore sat on the edge of Harry's bed and sighed. “Yes, Harry. I'm going to have to send you back. Please do not think for a second that I want to.” The old wizard assured.

 

            “Do you remember what I told you about your mother’s protection?” He waited for Harry to nod and then continued, “I told you her love saved you, and that was the truth, but it was more than that. When she died to save you, she enacted a bloodward that is still active today. As we saw with Quirrell, the bloodward keeps Voldemort from touching you, but another part of the ward keeps you hidden from him. A part that is only activated by your Aunt's blood. The only reason I sent you there in the first place is because while you live there no follower of Voldemort nor Voldemort himself can find you. I am sorry Harry, but you leaving is a risk we cannot afford to take.”

 

            “But Sir, I thought Voldemort was gone?” Harry was afraid he already knew what the answer to his question was, and he was right.

 

            “Voldemort is gone. For now. That does not mean, however, that he won't be back one day, and it does not mean that his followers won't still try to kill you.” Harry stared intently at his hands and nodded his understanding.

 

            “I guess I understand why I have to go back then...”

 

            “Harry, please do not mistake me. The Dursleys will face unyielding consequences for what they have done to you. Unfortunately the situation must be dealt with delicately. I’m afraid that I am unable to charge them _publically_ for the crimes they have committed just yet, as we still have need of them. However, I will not send you back without proper protection this time. And I definitely won't make you stay a second longer than necessary. I should think one month per summer should be sufficient to keep the wards active.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at Dumbledore in thanks, just missing the dark, angry look that passed through the old man’s eyes at mention of the Dursleys.

 

            Less time spent at the Durley’s was a blessing however one looked at it. He had no illusions though. Harry knew that whatever punishment the Dursleys faced, public or not, would likely only give the Dursleys more of a reason to hate him. He hoped whatever protection Dumbledore was planning on sending would be adequate enough to keep him from the worst of the inevitable fallout.

 

            “What about the time when I don't have to be there Sir? Where will I stay then?”

 

            Dumbledore smiled, “I believe it's about time you meet your godfather Harry.”

 

            “I have a godfather?” Harry questioned in quiet disbelief.

 

            “Yes, my boy. His name is Remus Lupin, and he was a dear friend of your parents when they were still alive.”

 

            Harry's shoulders dropped. “If I have a godfather how come I've never met him?”

 

            “Ah, I'm afraid that's another thing that is my fault. I asked him to stay away because I wanted you to grow up completely in the muggle world. Away from the distraction of your fame. Once you came to school, he wanted to come and visit you, but I knew you were not very happy with the Dursleys and I was concerned you wouldn't understand why you could not just simply live with him. Please understand that I had assumed the source of your unhappiness stemmed only from feelings of not fitting in or being too different from the Dursleys and thus misunderstood. I never imagined that they were harming you. I had hoped to spare you from the knowledge that Voldemort was after _you_ and not your parents that night, and if I explained the bloodwards I knew I would have to explain that as well. I hadn't thought to keep him from you forever, simply until I felt you were old enough to know the truth. It was a very rash decision on my part. After the events with Quirrell and Voldemort I realised you were much more ready to hear the truth than I was ready to tell it to you.”

 

            It was hard for Harry to feel too wronged or angry when faced with how obviously upset Dumbledore was over his mistake. He wasn't too happy about it either, but he could see that Dumbledore had at least been trying to protect him in some way, which was a lot more than what many of the other adults in his life had done for him.

 

            It was very off putting to see Dumbledore so guilt stricken. “I guess I understand what you were trying to do Professor. Really, I don't blame you. I know you were only trying to keep me safe, Sir.” suddenly something occurred to Harry. “Professor, are you- I mean, are you sure he will want to keep me? I mean, not everyone wants children... especially someone else's...”

 

            Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. “I assure you he does ask about you frequently and has made it clear many times that he wants custody of you or simply to see you at all. I had planned on setting up a meeting for you later this school year, and then this happened. It seems every choice I've made to protect you has backfired. I have now set it up so that he will stay at Hogwarts this year as Madame Pomfrey's assistant as she has had to let go of her apprentice due to disciplinary problems. I notified him about the situation and he should be here within the next week or so.”

 

            Harry was ecstatic to learn he had a godfather, but was still nervous about having to stay with someone he had never met. “What about the rest of this summer Sir?”

 

            At this Dumbledore's eyes finally regained some of their twinkle. “I was under the impression you were staying with the Weasley's for the remainder of the summer?”

 

            Harry smiled and ducked his head “Thank you, Professor.” Dumbledore nodded and raised from the bed.

 

            “Let me see if I can track down Madame Pomfrey so she can monitor your progress.” He turned away after gently patting Harry's knee.

 

            “Wait, Sir. You said you're going to send someone to protect me when I go back to the Dursleys. Who exactly did you mean by that?”

 

            “Well, I cannot send Remus because the wards may not recognise the Dursley's custody of you if he's there, so I had thought to send a teacher. Professor Snape has already agreed and is looking into buying the house directly to your aunt and uncle's left.”

 

             Harry swallowed deeply and nodded. He doubted Snape would do much to stop the Dursley's if they started beating him, in fact he was more likely to make popcorn and watch, but Harry didn't want to say as much to Dumbledore. His professor was already doing so many things to help Harry; he didn't want to make things harder for him.

 

            Luckily he was saved from having to say anything as Madame Pomfrey chose that moment to arrive. Harry was told that his ribs had indeed been fixed and that his spleen was as good as new. He would likely be sore for the next few days and some of his lesser bruises had been left to heal on their own. He was given a special diet and a list of potions to help with his healing and his nourishment, but was thankfully cleared to go back to the Weasley's house.

 

            Dumbledore lifted the wards on Hogwarts and Apparated him sidelong back to the burrow. Apparation was no more pleasant than portkey transportation unfortunately, though this time he was thankfully able to keep from vomiting again.

 

            When he arrived Mrs. Weasley ushered him upstairs into Ron's room and commanded him to rest. Later, when Ron came upstairs Harry was happy to learn they would be going to Diagon Alley the following Wednesday.


	6. Chapter 6

 

            Draco was bored to tears. His father was supposed to be taking him school shopping but instead they were in Borgin and Burk's, a store in Knockturn Alley. The whole morning Draco had had to listen to Lucius drone on about Malfoy pride and blood status, so he was immensely grateful when Borgin came out from the back to speak to his father.

 

            Draco knew his expressions were slipping and if his father had noticed the one time he had actually gone so far as to role his eyes, he would have had hell to pay for it. He needed to be more careful. He would much rather be at home reading the few muggle books he still had left from his last excursion into town. Or maybe even just writing back and forth with Riddle, who was turning out to be quite an interesting person to talk to, but his parents had insisted on him going. It would draw attention if Draco didn't go. Merlin forbid that!

 

            He turned away as the men haggled over illegal belongings Lucius was selling and glanced around the store. The room was filled with dangerous objects, but a seemingly normal cabinet caught his eye. He was about to touch it when two things stopped him. First, he was sure he heard a muffled sneeze from inside the cabinet. Second, Lucius called out from across the store, “Remember Draco, touch nothing. If you think I'm buying you anything after you let that filthy mud-blood Granger get higher scores than you, then you are even dimmer than she made you look!”

 

            Draco couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes and his near silent retort of, “as if blood has anything to do with school work you prejudice cretin.” Thankfully, Lucius didn't hear him because he was busy telling Borgin about how much blood still mattered to the Malfoys as they headed to the back to continue their business.

 

            Once they were completely out of the room, Draco decided to investigate the sneezing. He opened the cabinet and froze momentarily in surprise at the sight of the Saviour of the Wizarding World covered in ashes and half healed yellowing bruises. Harry Potter seemed just as surprised as Draco felt and for a few seconds they just gaped at one another. Then Draco closed his mouth and gathered his wits.

 

            “So, Potter. Come here often?” Now that he knew that blood status was a sham and was no longer trying to earn his father's approval, there didn't seem to be much of a reason to continue being such an awful prat all the time. That didn't mean he had to lose all of his snark though.

 

            “What?” Potter asked, confusion evident behind his broken glasses.

 

            Draco rolled his eyes, “What are you doing hiding in a wardrobe in in the middle of Knockturn Alley? You're definitely not going to find Narnia in there. And why do you look like you got in a fight with a fireplace and lost?” He was actually slightly concerned, because it was rather obvious someone had injured Potter intentionally, and he had supposedly been at home all break surrounded by his muggle relatives. Draco decided to let it go though, assuming that he had probably just been doing something else heroic and gotten injured by someone in the process. The amount of trouble the other boy attracted was absurd.

 

            “What?” Potter said again.

 

            Honestly this was getting a bit ridiculous. “You've got to be lost. You're way too straight laced to be here for any other reason.” Then it occurred to him, “Wait, did you get lost in the Floo Network?” He only asked because it used to happen to him all the time when he was younger. He'd never had a speech impediment, but the idea of willingly stepping into an active fire had always caused him to stutter. It had driven Lucius barmy for a while until Draco had grown out of it.

 

            “I – yes. Yes, I'm lost. It was the first time I had used the floo...” Potter said eyeing Draco in suspicion.

 

            “Yeah, that used to happen to me all the time. Count yourself lucky. The first time I flooed I retched all over myself. Where were you trying to go? Diagon Alley?”

 

            “...Yeah.” Potter was looking more confused and suspicious by the second.

 

            “Knockturn Alley is not a good place to get lost.” Draco tutted ignoring the questioning look Potter was giving him. “Especially if you're Harry Potter. Okay. When Father and I leave, try to follow us as quickly as possible. Don't let anyone stop you, hide your scar and stay out of sight and you should be fine. Sorry, I would just walk you out, but Father is with me and he... well he just wouldn't like it...”

 

            Potter was openly gaping at him in confusion and Draco might have taken a moment to explain and apologise for his past wrongs, but then he heard Lucius' voice coming closer from the back as he ended his discussion with Borgin and he had to quickly close the cabinet door and turn around.

 

            “Come, Draco.” It's funny. (In a completely humourless way, of course.) Lucius had been saying that exact phrase for years, but Draco had only recently realized his father was calling him like a master would his dog. Draco hastened to catch up with Lucius and hoped that Potter would be able to follow.

 

            Later in the day it was evident that Potter had found some way out of Knockturn Alley when the press hogging idiot that was Gilderoy Lockhart dragged him up to the front to pose for pictures. Once Potter had finally managed to tear himself away from Lockhart's grimy attention stealing hands, Draco scoffed incredulously and said, “God Potter. You'd think you were Freddie Mercury returned to life the way they fawn over you. What must it be like to be so famous you can't go into a _book-shop_ without making the front page?”

 

            “Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!” A young ginger girl exclaimed with a glare. Obviously she was another judgemental Weasley.

 

            “Oh really? I couldn't tell by the way Lockhart had to bodily pull him into the picture. Looked like he nearly ripped your arm off Potter. If I were you I’d sic your little girlfriend here on him. Looks like she could do some damage.” The girl turned bright red and backed away. Draco felt a bit mean for embarrassing the girl, but he didn't like people who were rude for no reason.

 

            The other three were too busy gaping at Draco to remember to take up for the younger girl. Granger was the first to recover. “You're right Harry. He is acting strange. Did you just make a muggle reference?”

 

            Before Draco could confirm that he had, Potter jumped in. “Yeah and that's not the first one today. Before when he found me hiding in the cabinet, he told me I definitely wouldn't find Narnia in there.” Weasley, Granger, and Potter stared at Draco in open confusion.

 

            “Who _are_ you? And what the bloody hell have you done with Malfoy?” Weasley demanded reaching for his wand. Draco couldn't help but snort in amusement.

 

            “I'm not a changeling Weasley, I just managed to grow a brain this summer rather than continuing to mimic my father. I finally stopped taking his word as law and started investigating things for myself. I found a lot of muggle things greatly intriguing and I already knew blood had nothing to do with magical ability, I was just being a sore little prat. Speaking of which I believe I owe you an apology Granger-” there was a commotion from the other side of the shop then, and when they turned to look at what it was Draco was very surprised to see his father engaged in a full on brawl with Arthur Weasley.

 

            “Oh Merlin. Weasley, I believe your father has just broken my father's nose. Oh wow. That is just too good.” Draco laughed openly. He couldn't believe his luck. First, the diary hadn't been at all what he had feared it was, and now his father was getting his arse handed to him by Arthur Weasley. In public. “And now he's being thrown out. I guess we shall have to finish this conversation at school. Goodbye Weasleys, Ganger, Potter.” Draco nodded to each of them and rushed to follow his father.

 

            He hoped that hadn’t gone as badly as he thought it had. Draco had written to Riddle at great length about changing his image and Riddle had assured him it was better to change drastically all at once rather than to try and do it subtly over time and risk coming off as insincere. That way once people realized this was how you were going to be from now on, they would only have to adjust themselves to the new you once.

 

            Draco was immensely glad he had taken the risk and investigated the diary himself instead of waiting and giving it to his godfather. He hated to imagine what Uncle Severus would think of him if he had shown up for second year terrified of a harmless book. Also, he was beginning to consider Riddle a confidant and that was something he would definitely need this year with all of the personal changes he was planning to make. He was grateful he hadn't accidentally given that up before he had realized he even had it.

 

**~*~**

 

            One thing that Draco was going to miss dearly when he went back to Hogwarts, was the muggle town near his house. Since their trip to Diagon Alley a fortnight ago Lucius had been out of the house on business quite a bit. As such, Draco had had a much easier time sneaking out to visit the town lately.

 

            The day before, Draco had actually been able to stay out long enough to go to the cinema and watch a movie. Lucius had left early that morning saying that he wouldn’t be home for dinner and Narcissa had left to go shopping not long after.

 

            The movie had been a very different experience for Draco. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was an interesting parody of monsters and teenagers, and though the muggles' interpretation of vampires had been almost completely wrong, Draco had still found the movie incredibly entertaining.

 

            Draco found though, that movies had to be experienced first-hand in order to truly appreciate them, as when he tried to explain the premise to Tom, the diary hadn’t been able to enjoy it the way Draco had.

 

            Today, Draco was buying as many books as he could to try and last him until Christmas break. He had recently discovered an obsession with fiction books. The children and young adult muggle fiction was so much more interesting than wizard fiction. In a lot of muggle books, the main character actually stumbled upon magic (though the magic was never quite accurate) which was very interesting. Even the ones without magic were enthralling, and Draco was determined to buy as many as he could find. By now the shop workers had learned to ignore his eccentricities in taste, so he didn’t have to be sneaky about it either. 

 

            Draco was lucky that he had had the foresight to put an enlarging charm and a feather light charm on the inside of a rucksack (a purchase he had made the week before in the muggle town, along with some casual muggle clothing) before he came, or he would have been hard pressed to carry all of his books home. As it was he only had to carry them to an alley beside the book store and then he stuffed them all in his bag. He would have to pack all of his muggle things in the bag when he got home so that he could just throw the bag in his trunk with his school stuff.

 

            After talking to Riddle, Draco had decided that this year was going to be different than last. He had initially considered trying out for seeker on the Quidditch team, but then he realized that though he liked Quidditch, he really had no interest in being on the team (it would take up too much free time) and the idea was actually just another thing his father had tried to push him into.

 

            Instead of doing the things Lucius wanted him to this year, Draco was going to use the year to find himself. He had been an extension of his father for so long, that Draco really had no idea what kind of person he actually was. He knew what kind of person he wanted to be though, and that person was vastly different than the Draco Malfoy of first year. To begin with, that person was a lot nicer than Draco had ever dared to be. It was going to be an odd transition, but Draco knew he would feel better for it.

 

            Last week when he had obviously bewildered the Gryffindor trio with his suddenly nice behaviour, Draco had realised that changing his attitude wasn’t enough. He had a lot of apologies to make if he ever hoped to truly change who he was, and that was probably going to be the easiest and hardest part.

           

            The easiest because he was honestly was sorry, and the hardest because he was going to have to actually explain to these people his past actions, and Draco knew that not all of them were going to accept his reasons as valid or his apologies as true.

           

            Draco had actually sat down and made a list of the people he had been worst to, and he was surprised at how long it had actually gotten. He had expected to have to put down Neville Longbottom and the Gryffindor trio, but once had started writing the list he had been surprised by how many people had actually come to mind. At this point he thought it might actually be better just writing a column in the Daily Prophet titled My Sincerest Apologies to Everyone for Being Such a Spoiled Prat, by: Draco Malfoy. It would certainly take less time.

 

            As it was, Draco knew he couldn’t personally apologize to every person that he had wronged (mostly because that would probably be insincere and only manage to assuage his own guilt) but he did make sure to write letters to the before mentioned four that he had been worst to last year. He had written many different drafts of each letter and eventually decided to go with the most heartfelt of each (because let’s face it, if Draco Malfoy was going to apologize, he may as well do it properly.) He had sent them all last night and he was waiting for his owl Sully (Draco was seven when he had gotten him and he had named the bird Sullen after it’s only expression; his parents were a bit miffed, but Draco had stood his ground and they had eventually relented out of sheer annoyance) to return.

 

            Draco wasn’t really expecting much in way of replies from any of them; fearful suspicion from Longbottom, polite suspicion from Granger, blunt suspicion from Potter, and probably a note saying piss off from Weasley. Still, at least he had apologized at all. Riddle had thought it was unnecessary, but Draco knew that, at least for these four people, this was the only way that he could make them understand that he was serious about his new attitude.


End file.
